The Itsy Bitsy Spider
by Fernandidilly-yo
Summary: Osborn leers over him, rain and yellowed blood rolling down his green chin and dripping onto Peter's mask. "You have no idea how I have longed for this." The Goblin whispers hotly in Spidey's ear. "To watch Spiderman die at my hand."
1. Crawled up the water spout

**I uh, was feeling angsty apparently. And I had a bunch of pent up feelings that fell right out into this fic...**

 **This is kind of set in the Ultimate Spider-Man comics, so The Goblin weighs 1000 pounds, contols fire, and is super duper creepy! Peter is only 5'5 tall and is 15 years old. Yeah...I know small. (You don't have to read those comics for this to make sense, no, not whatsoever) I just want to get the point across that Norman isn't to be messed with (he isn't the silly guy on a hovorboard that throws pumpkin bombs in this), he's serously _pee your pants_ scary...and Peter is so tiny! **

**Warning- Because Norman is a creep, and Peter gets a little bloody...**

 **Disclaimer- Spiderman _mine?_ Me, _own?_ I wish... **

* * *

Spidey landed lightly on the balls of his feet. Crouching down on the edge of a building as he waited for his spider-sense to direct him somewhere. The night was cold the streets below lit up and mostly empty, being that it was somewhere around one in the morning.

The rain was light, but it made it that most people (including baddies) were already inside for the night. Most sane people didn't like being out in this kind of weather. Peter breathed out, watching his breath mist the night air. So that probably made him crazy, huh?

The slight tingle at the base of the teen's skull told him to turn left. He obliged, sprinting and flipping off the building before shooting off a web and flinging himself forward. The tingle in his head became more pronounced. But there was something off about it.

Peter took in a shuddering breath as he landed on another roof top. The tingle that went into his ears and made the front of his skull feel like it was being pushed in. He only got that distinct feeling with a few of his rogues.

The boy felt his heart rate start to spike, as he examined the streets below, listening intently for something to disrupt the silence. His body felt cold in the night air, his spandex suit not providing any protection in these elements.

Peter was crouched forward unmoving, but his spider-sense started to flare up, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand. He spun around looking for the source of danger. But there was nothing, only darkness.

Spidey took a steadying breath before leaping forward, following the tingle in his head for the danger, the threat. He spun his way over from one roof to the other, doing a round-off in the air before landing and running again, shooting off a web and letting it carry him to the next rooftop.

Peter didn't realize where he was going. No, not until he was already there. The teen stood shakily as he looked up to the large, glamorous, _and oh so terrifying_ building of Oscorp.

The teen's breath stuttered from his lips as his spider-sense, and heartbeat were the only sounds he could make out. The sharp pain in his head informing him that something was close.

Swallowing the bile that threatened to choke him, Peter forced himself to turn around. Slowly, oh ever so slowly Spiderman made himself look up.

Only then did he see the looming form of the Goblin. The Monster's mouth spread open showing his yellowed teeth, saliva hanging from them as he smiled down at his prey. His eyes staring intently at Peter, his chest heaving up and down as if excited to dig his claws into his next meal, rip into Peter flesh…

" _Hi'ya_ Gobby." Spiderman heard himself say. His insides were shriveling up on themselves, his stomach flipping as butterflies burst in his chest.

There was a low grumble in the back of Norman's throat. " _Peter,"_ He hissed out, spittle flying from his sharp teeth and onto Spidey's eye lenses.

"So," Peter drew out the word, leaning forward as he takes a step back, putting his hands on his hips "What brings you here?" The teen asks, not waiting for a reply he continues "If you're not too busy we should hit the town," Spidey swings a wrist forward in a way of gesture " _Ya'know,_ paint the town red!" Peter pinches the front of his suit snapping the red fabric there. "Or, I guess we could paint it green," Spidey says sounding anything but enthusiastic as he points to the villain.

Osborn's eyes flash orange, his spine making a cracking sound as he straightens. Peter feels his spider-sense scream. He spins out of the way as a clawed hand comes forward, the air ripping with the Monster-of-a-man's yells of rage.

Spidey flips himself to a bricked wall, sticking there like the spider he is. He launches himself off before flipping forward and kicking the Goblin in the head. The cold and slightly scaly skin of the villain scuffing against Spiderman's boot.

"I mean we don't have to do anything too _crazy."_ Peter babbles feeling his anxiety crawling up his throat as the Goblin grabs his ankle and flings him to the ground. Peter's head knocks into the roof, making his ears ring.

Spiderman webs the larger in the face before putting his gloved hands to the ground and spinning his hips around so he could kick the Goblin. Osborn is too busy trying to rip the webbing from his face, he falls backward his back smashing into the same bricked wall that Peter had just stuck too.

"You could just take me out to dinner," Peter says as he runs forward kicking Norman in the center of his chest and flinging himself off like a lethal, coiled, spring. "But nothing fancy…" Peter scurries up the opposite wall " _Wait,_ look who I'm talking too." He says, his tone not portraying the swimming dread that fills him. "We both know you can afford it, and _Normy_ don't be stingy, cuze I'll be honest with you, the only reason I'm seeing you is for your money. It's definitely not because of the" Peter waves a hand in Norman's direction, "well you know, _deformity."_

With that Osborn lunges forward, " _Shut up!"_ he yells, the sound far too close to Peter's ears. The Goblin traps the teen under him, his clawed feet and hands holding him up and over Peter, pressing the smaller to the wall.

The Goblin's breath is rancid, the smell of burning flesh coming off his tongue. Peter shudders in place, willing himself not to throw up. Osborn presses forward, his broad, hot, chest pinning Peter's whole body to the wall. Making Peter realize once again the vast difference in his and Norman's size.

The Monster puts his mouth by Peter's ear, his breath ghosting over Spidey's face, making the teen's eyes water. "You're mine, _Peter Parker."_ The Goblin breathes, Peter gags kicking out at the other. Osborn grunts before his eyes blaze, he snatched out, his clawed fingers ripping the spider insignia of Spidey's suit, along with some of Peter's flesh.

Spidey cries out, and with a burst of adrenaline punches Osborn as hard as he can in the face. He feels the bones of his hand shift, the skin of the Monster's face ripping apart. "If you weren't hungry you could have just _said it!"_ Peter yells indigently. "We are never going to last if we keep fighting this way _Normy,"_ Spidey complains in false sadness as he flips onto the Goblin's back and punches him in the side of the head.

Osborn grabs Peter by the arm swinging him around like a doll, before slamming him into the bricked wall, then back and into the other. Peter groans, feeling his head begin to spin as something gives in his chest. Spidey twists himself from the other, kicking off of Norma's forehead and climbing up a wall so he could catch his breath, and maybe get these stars out of his eyes.

"Okay, so not a restaurants kind of guy." Peter ponders out loud. "I know the perfect place!" Spidey says in excitement, spinning off the wall and landing on Osborn. "There's this gay karaoke bar right down the street!" The Goblin falls to one knee with Spiderman's impacted, grumbling in rage. "If you play your cards right, maybe wave some money around, you could find yourself a nice hooker, _whoops,_ I mean _looker_." Peter jumps off the wall, landing on Norman's head this time, and then flips back up, and out of reach.

"Now, to figure out what you should _sing_..?" Spidey says wonderingly as he glances up to the sky. "We should definitely sing a duet, though." Peter decides. "Something classic…" Peter runs off the wall before landing on the Monster's back, Peter's bony elbow making something in the Goblin's back snap.

Peter backflips away as the Goblin tries to grab him, before snapping his fingers and pointing at the man " _I got you babe!"_ The boy shouts, false excitement coloring his tone "I call being Cher, that makes you Sonny."

 _"Enough!"_ The monster roars, flinging himself onto Peter and making them tumble from the roof. Peter can't help the choked off yelp he gives at suddenly free-falling with a giant _man-frog_ trying to kill him.

Spiderman pulls at the arms trapping him, kicking at the giant torso pinning his body as he struggles to get free. Spidey finally gets one arm loose enough to be able to shoot off a web, their falls is abruptly stopped but the Goblin doesn't let go.

He only slips slightly down the teen's body. The weight of the monster pulling on Peter's torso. Whatever had cracked in Peter's chest earlier, _snaps,_ the crunching in his chest too much to bare leaving Spidey to do nothing more than cry out in agony, as he tried not to drop from his web.

Peter pants out shaking breaths, the burning in his chest and lungs overwhelming. His arm screams in pain as his grip on the web slips slightly. Spidey can feel the hot breath of Norman ghosting over his belly button and lower stomach. The feeling making the teen shutter in disgust.

Spiderman wiggles a leg free, kneeing the Monster in the gut and flipping himself backward. He lands roughly in a puddle, the rain heavier now, the sound of it drumming in Peter's ringing ears.

The Globin lands on a car, the windshield and roof crumbling like a tin-can under his enormous weight. Norman gets up slowly, his eyes locked on Peter as he licks the yellowed blood from his lips.

Spidey gets in a defensive position, bringing his fists up as he locks his knees in place. With an inhuman shriek _(that Peter hears all too often in his nightmares)_ the Monster runs forward, the fire in his eyes penetrating through the rain as he rushes at Spiderman.

Peter runs forward, ignoring the banging of his spider-sense and the desire to run away, as he rushes at the Goblin. The teen flips his body over the other, kicking him in the ear, and spinning so he could punch him in the throat. But the Goblin's hand snatched out, grabbing Peter's arm and pulling the boy to the side.

His claws dig into Peter's flesh, a ripping tearing pain burning across his arm. He bites back the urge to cry out in pain. Norman's hand is so large it envelopes almost Peter's whole arm. Spidey struggles to get away, yanking on his trapped limb and kicking out but hitting nothing but air.

The Monster grabs Peter's legs, holding them in place and stretching the teen out so that his broken ribs shift within his chest. Spidey swallows his shout of pain building in his throat. Osborn's claws tear into Spidey's suit ripping into the fabric of his boots. _"I've been waiting so long for this,"_ Norman says in a low voice, the vibration of it snaking up Peter's body.

"What?" Peter asks, his voice sounds a bit rough with pain, but it's steady. "Dancing in the rain?" he finishes. "That is pretty romantic I gotta say, but a bit cheesy _don't'ya think?_

Osborn digs his claws in a little further, his nostrils flaring as he moves a claw to rip into the inner of Peter's thigh. Spidey bites his tongue in order to stay quiet. The pain hot and sharp.

" _To have you at my mercy,_ " Norman growls the words, making a shudder run up Peter's spin as his spider-sense goes haywire. _"Spiderman, sprawled out in front of me, ready to devour."_ Osborn finishes. He runs his huge thumb over the dripping copper coming from the wound he just made in Peter's thigh, almost as if caressing it. His scaled fingers covered in the teen's blood.

 _"My son, my creation, mine. You belong to me."_ The words were said in a purr, gurgling up from within the Monster's chest and misting the air with their disgustingness. Peter pushed away, scrunching up his nose in distaste as he wiggled to get free.

"So what do'ya have planned?" Peter forces out, trying to ignore his growing panic. "We could go on a fishing trip, maybe hit a few landmarks on the way. _Oh or,_ or, we could play hide and seek. I'll hide you seek, _kay?"_

The Monster leans forward his sharp teeth almost touching Spiderman's eye lenses. _"Does your incessant babbling make you feel more secure Peter?"_ The Goblin asks, _"Does it make you feel safe? Give you a false sense of control?"_ Osborn goes on, his eyes hot and flaming in the rain, making steam rise from them.

"Nah," Peter knows he should shut up, knows that he's just making things worse for himself, but he can't stop. "I just like the sound of my voice."

Norman roars with rage, throwing Spiderman into a nearby car. The glass of the window scratches at Peter's back, making him wince as he launches himself back at Norman. The Monster shoots a fireball at him, Spidey ducks out of the way, firing a web at the Goblin's mouth before launching himself forward and kicking the larger in the collar bone, hearing a snap.

The Monster lashes out, burning the webbing from his eyes before slamming Peter to the ground. A second later a large clawed foot stomps on the teen's chest, making Peter see red as hot pain bursts from his broken ribs.

Norman picks him up a moment later before slamming the spider back into the road. Peter's head makes a wet smacking sound in the puddle underneath him as his skull slams into the pavement. Spiderman stifles a moan of pain.

Osborn leers over him, rain and yellowed blood rolling down his green chin and dripping onto Peter's mask. _"You have no idea how I have longed for this."_ The Goblin whispers hotly in Spidey's ear. _"To watch Spiderman die at my hand."_ The words are rolled off of Norman's tongue making Peter lash out.

But the Monster snatched Peter's wrist, painfully gripping it as he slowly turns the arm the wrong way. Spidey attempts to pull the limb away, but the other's grip is unrelenting.

 _"But I want to savor it."_ Norman goes on, his eyes solely on the bug he has pinned under him, his hand still twisting Peter's wrist the wrong way as he whispers things into the teen's ear. _"Make it last."_ He breathes, _"Memorize every snap-"_ The word is punctured as he finally twists Peter's wrist fully in the wrong direction, splintering the bone. And breaking the web-shooter there in the process.

Peter screams, thrashing under the Monster, desperately trying to get away. But it's useless the Goblin breathing down his fiery, rancid, breath onto the teen. _"every sound, every scream, every whimper, every delectable plead you make."_ Peter feels the Norman grab for his head, he tries wiggling away, kicking out and thrashing about. But then a thick bulbous hand squeezes around the boy's neck, and Peter is forced to stop his attempts at escape. _"I want to witness the hope vanish from your eyes, as you realize all odds of surviving are lost."_

Peter's lungs are burning, his broken ribs rubbing together painfully. His head pounding, from a concussion. His wrist pure agony from where the bone was splintered apart. Dots color the spider's eyes as the Goblin slowly adds pressure to his throat, cutting off his air, squeezing the life out of the boy's body with each agonizing second. The Monster slips the mask off of Peter's head, taking the fabric between his teeth and claws and ripping the spandex apart. _"I want to see that sensual fear, as it enters those brown innocent eyes of yours."_ He purrs out, his tongue flicking out and almost touching Peter's naked cheek.

 _"And then,"_ Norman leans in impossibly closer, his weight crushing Peter, his hand still wrapped around the boy's pale neck. _"I will get the pleasure of watching the life bleed from your eyes_."

The teen feels himself shutter, with fear or revulsion, he's not sure. His world is swirling, his lungs begging for air, his spider-sense screaming high and shrill. Peter elbows the other in the face before kicking at the arm pinning him down by his neck. The boy spins around before kicking the Monster away from himself, flipping onto the side of a building and sucking in a lungful of the night air. Trying desperately to catch his breath.

The Goblin smiles at him from below, licking his lips. His eyes flaming as he rushes at Peter. The two go flying in through a window, crashing to the ground as glass shards rain over them. Peter kicks the Monster in the jaw before scrambling away. His head _'thunking'_ against a desk as he distances himself from Norman.

Peter feels something lodged in his side as he rushes to his feet. The teen looks down, finding a large shard of glass embedded in his side, his blood dripping from the tip and staining the carpeted floor beneath him. Spidey pulls it out with a choked off cry, flinging the fragment away from himself.

Spiderman's spider-sense fires off and the teen rolls to the side as a desk is thrown at him. The wood splinters apart as it crashes into a wall. Peter ducks under a desk, hiding away, hoping the darkness will help him. The teen places a hand over his mouth trying to calm his panicked breathing.

 _"You cannot hide boy."_ The Goblin hisses before he lights a desk on fire. Shooting fireballs upon the office area. The smell of burning ink filled the room, it's oily sent trailing into the teen's nose, and making him want to gag.

A few computers burst into flames, making loud noises that Norman has to shout over, _"I will find you! I will always find you! That I promise, Peter Parker!"_ The notion made Spidey shudder in revulsion. His head pounding, his lungs burning as they filled with rancid smoke.

"Who said I was hiding?" Peter shot out a web, covering the Monsters mouth as he jumped up to the ceiling. _But I was hiding, like a little kid, which I guess I kind of am_ …Peter couldn't help but think.

Osborn lets out a roar of rage, shooting fire at the teen and causing Peter to fall onto an aflame desk. The teen hisses out a breath of pain as his bloodied back his burnt. The teen flips himself off the desk and crouches behind a wall.

It's hard to stick to things with a broken wrist, but Peter can manage it. Spidey climbs onto a wall before launching himself off with a hard shove and kicking the Goblin. The Monster stumbles backward, but doesn't fall.

The sprinkler system finally turns on. Water raining down on the two, as it tries to fight off the flames. The water soaks Peter even more, making his bangs stick to his face as he readies to attack Norman. The Monsters eyes steam further the water mixing in with the flames and making the Goblin look even more intimidating.

The Goblin kicks out, almost catching Peter in the leg. But the teen jumps upwards and out of the way. Peter's movements are sloppy, though, his body tired from blood loss and a concussion.

The Monster is able to grab him before slamming Peter into a desk, the wood breaking under him and splintering into his back. Spidey bites his lips trying to keep from screaming out.

 _"Pinned down, ready for the taking. For my_ _disposal."_ Norman hisses his eyes looking ravenous. Digging his claws into Peter's leg before slicing downwards, leaving shreds of mutilated skin behind. Spidey does cry out at this, trying to get away. But Osborn grabs him by the ankle, before yanking him roughly to the floor.

Peter tries to twist away, but Norman uses the action against him. Pulling his ankle in the opposite direction before squeezing. A crunching sound was heard right before Peter let out a shriek of pure agony. His head thrown back as he emptied his lungs of all air.

The Goblin leaned in close then, letting the crushed ankle fall heavily to the floor, as he leers over Peter's face, he presses a finger into the teen's mouth, moving it over his tongue and the inside of his cheek, before Peter tried to bite down, but he was to slow. Norman snatched his finger away, his eyes taking in every detail of the wrecked youth as he breathed in deeply. Satisfied.

 _"So weak."_ He purrs out, his lips touching the curve of Peter's ear. His breath sending hot tickles down the teen's skin. _"You are worthless, Peter. A failure. So insignificant. Small. A child playing_ _at_ _a man's game."_ The Monster moves his lips ghosting over Peter's cheek. _"You were too small to save your parents Peter. You were too naive to save you beloved Uncle Ben. And you will be powerless to save yourself, Spiderman."_

Peter cries out in a fit of rage, hitting with all his might and sending the Monster reeling backward. The teen sits up shakily before firing off webs, trying to trap the Goblin and buy himself some time. He's too dizzy, too tired, too hurt, too young to fight this thing by himself. He needs to get away, needs to run, needs to hide. He can't fight Norman like this, _he can't._

Peter launches a web at the doorframe pulling himself upwards. His shattered ankle dangling under him, his broken wrist hanging uselessly by his side.

The building is dark and huge, door after door leading down the never ending hallway. Peter's breaths are coming out in pants. His head spinning, his ears ringing. Spidey's foot catches on the next corner and he's sent sprawling to the floor. He resists the urge to groan. The boy lifts himself onto wobbly knees, places a shaky, broken, hand over the wound on his side trying to stop the bleeding, and begins to crawl forward.

His heart is pounding in his chest, trying to break out from his ribs. Peter's soaked hair drips water down into his eyes making it harder to see. Blood bubbling up from his various wounds.

 _"The itsy bitsy spider, ran through all the night."_

Peter let out frantic panicked breaths, his vision swimming before him as he dragged his broken leg behind himself trying to crawl forward. His spider-sense is a shirking mess, his brain turning to a mushed panic.

The smell of burning flesh and aflame ink making Peter want to gag. The sound of a rampaging Monster looking for him. Peter's heart spluttered in panic as the sounds of Norman's singing came ever closer, it's tune bouncing off the walls.

 _"Down came the Goblin, and filled him full of fright."_

Peter didn't know what to do. His chest was burning with a fear he had never felt before. His stomach rolling inside of him as his head pounded. The desperate need to get away, to find somewhere safe, almost too much for the teen to hold up against.

He was lost within some random office building, with nowhere to go. He had no one to call, and even if he did, he had no way of doing so.

Peter's eyes burned as his teeth began to chatter, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

No help was coming.

There wasn't anyone to save him.

No one even knew what was going on.

Peter was all _alone…_

 _"Out came Norman, and chased him through the rain."_

Spidey's heart was pounding so loud it was dizzying. His fingers trembled as they pulled him forward. His mouth was too wet, the taste of the Goblin's fingers still lingered on his tongue, the fact making Peter's stomach turn; made him long to vomit.

A trail of blood was slowly coming from Peter. The coppery red spilling from his wounds and falling to the floor as he dragged his body forward. The sight made the teen want to cry.

Could the Goblin see that in the dark? Could Norman _smell_ it?

The singing went on…

 _"And the itsy bitsy spider, won't see the light of day again."_

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 ** _I'M SO SORRY PETER! :,(_**

 **Next chapter will be posted sometime in the future...Maybe...**

 ** _Please_ let me know what you think because I haven't written a whump fic like this before, and I am unsure of whether or not it was good...So please review, and let me know if you would like to see more! **

**Fernandidilly-yo out! _(for now)_**


	2. Down came the rain

**Hey, guys! I am so sorry that this took almost a month to update. I meant to have this chapter up like two weeks ago...oops.**

 **Warning- Again because Norman is a creep and Peter is hurt.**

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 _"The itsy bitsy Spiderman, climbed up on the wall."_

Peter's body was shaking uncontrollably. His breathing ragged and puffed out of his quivering chest. His head pounded, blood ' _whooshing'_ through his ringing ears as he dragged himself forward.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't fight Norman this way. He was _too hurt, too small, too scared._

But the teen only had one web-shooter and he wasn't sure that he could web-sling his way out of here in his condition if he were to even find a viable exit that is. And Normy probably wouldn't just let him waltz out of here so-

 _"Down came Osborn, and made him crash and fall."_

The singing was maddening, Osborn's voice echoing through the dark and bouncing off the walls. And he wouldn't _stop!_ Spidey wanted to beg for him to stop. He wanted to scream and plead for him to be quiet. Just please, _stop it!_

 _Stop it! Please. Shutup-shutup-shutup!_

But he didn't.

 _"Out came the Goblin, and filled him full of pain."_

Peter felt a soft sob bubbled up from his chest. He hated that _stupid song!_ It was supposed to be a silly little tune. One that everyone knew. That children sang when they were bored or drawing pictures in there Livingroom while their Aunt made cookies in the kitchen on cold winter days.

A song you sang while it rained outside and you watched a little spider hang from its web, wishing you could go play too. A lullaby your Uncle hummed when he was helping you put your pajamas on, his face soft as he made sure you brushed your teeth. A rhyme you sang while out in the garden with your Aunt, spinning in circles until you fell down in the grass with little giggles.

But Norman had twisted it into a sick game. One that made the boy shudder with a fear he had never felt before. One that filled him with a dread like no other, making his stomach twist itself into knots. One that made Peter's head spin with an all-encompassing panic.

Spidey tried to not focus on the Monster's loud, thunderous footsteps. The teen could still smell his stench, the burning flesh, the rancid breath. His stomach rolled inside of him, he was going to be sick.

 _"And the itsy bitsy spider, will never sling a web again."_

Peter pressed a hand over his mouth trying to keep his shuddering breaths quiet, he wanted to go home. Wanted this all to be over, wanted to see his Aunt May. Oh god, _Aunt May_ …

What will she do if Peter dies? _Oh god._ She would be alone; Peter would be abandoning her. Uncle Ben had only been gone a few months. She would be in their house by herself. _No no no._

She would have to sit at the table alone. Maybe she would set three place settings out of habit, only to realize, she was the last Parker left. _Oh no oh no oh no._ The house would be so silent. It was already too quiet without Ben around.

What would she do with herself? Who would she mother when she no longer had her boys to look after? _Please no please no please no._ She would have no one but herself to bake for. Peter would no longer get to tell her stories of his day. They wouldn't have their movie nights, or go on their once monthly dates. She would be so lonely.

What would she think? Surely she would be surprised to find out her nephew was the ' _web-slinging menace'_ of New York? Would they even find a body? Or would Norman take it as a prize? Would May get closure? _Oh god oh god oh god._ Would he be placed next to Uncle Ben and his parents? Or would it be nothing more than an empty casket?

 _Help, oh god, no no no, please help._

A choked sound passed the boy's bruised lips. No, he had to fight. Had to get away. For Aunt May. He couldn't leave her alone. Couldn't die without saying goodbye. _No, no_ that wasn't fair. He had to be there for her. Take care of his Aunt May like she did for him. Protect her from all the evil he had brought into their lives.

Spidey pressed his back to a wall, pulling himself upwards before webbing the wound in his side. He casted his ankle the best he could. He still couldn't really walk on it. Well, actually that was an understatement. He couldn't even put weight on it without sharp pain shooting up his body and making him want to cry. But that would at least keep it in place.

A bloodied handprint was left on the wall as he forced his way to his feet. The room swam before him, his body swaying to the side slightly. His whole being throbbed with every harsh heartbeat. His vision spotty from his concussion or maybe blood loss.

He had to get out. Needed to find a way out of here and make sure Osborn couldn't follow. Maybe he could find help? But who would help him? The Avengers maybe. If he could even find them. _Oh god, what if they weren't even in New York!?_ And the Fantastic Four were on the other side of the city. Spidey would never make it there in his condition.

 _"_ _Come out, come out."_ The Goblin called. Peter shuddered, feeling bile crawling up his abused throat. Norman was getting closer. The boy had a feeling the Monster knew exactly where he was. He was playing with him, scaring him, teasing him with a slight sense of safety.

 _But he knew_ , Peter could feel it. The Goblin knew where he was. He was enjoying himself, playing with his prey before he struck. Dangling hope in front of the teen before he snatched it back away. It was sickening.

 _"_ _Ready or not here I come."_ Spidey's breath hitched. God, how was this his life? It was like a horror movie…And Peter had never been a fan of those types of films…He had watched some when he was younger, he was curious, hadn't realized what he was doing until it was too late.

But he had paid the price there afterward. Every shadow morphed into some sort of monster. Every blow of the wind was a whispered threat. Every sound made him jump and his heart leap in his chest. The nights were filled with nightmares and terrors. It had been miserable.

But Uncle Ben had figured it out. The older man knew Peter better than the boy knew himself it seemed at times. He had helped the boy through it, banishing the nightmares and monsters away. Protecting the boy from his irrational fears. Soothing him and telling Peter that monsters weren't real, that they didn't exist.

But Peter knew better now. His Uncle Ben had been wrong. Because Spidey knew for a fact that monsters were _real_. He fought them. He was running from one right now. And this time Uncle Ben wouldn't be here to comfort the teen, the man could no longer provide protection. The Monster chasing Peter now was not an irrational fear _._ He was not a figment of the boy's imagination or a character from a horror movie. No, he was much worse, and he was all too _terrifying._

 _"_ _Come out, come out, wherever you are."_ It was turning into a game of hide and seek. The halls dark and morphing in the teen's vision. The hissed voice sounding menacing and oh so horrifying.

Peter sucked in a sharp breath as he started to move forward, his body couldn't take much more he knew. But he had to keep going, had to be there for the people who needed him. For his Aunt May. He couldn't give in now.

Spidey stumbled his way into a darkened conference room, a large table sat in the middle, floor to ceiling windows letting light illuminate the room in yellowed shadows. The rain was heavier now, it's sound drumming against the building and mixing with Peter's panting breaths.

The teen forced himself to keep moving, he walked to the window maybe he could just break it and swing his way-

A shadow passed over the boy making him shudder, but when Peter spun around no one was there. His heart was beating so hard it was starting to hurt, his head spinning with his spider-sense that wouldn't shut the heck up.

 _"_ _Now, now, no cheating Peter_." Came Norman's voice. And oh god, he was so close. Too close, Peter could smell him. _"Don't you know the rules of hide and seek?"_ The last word was cut off by the Goblin's laughter. The sound banging off the walls, making Peter's brain rattle.

The sound made something in Spidey shrivel up and die. He could feel the vibration of it, feel the Monster's laughter quacking in his bones. _"It's raining, it's pouring."_ The Goblin started singing again, the sound almost as revolting as his laughter.

 _"_ _Spiderman is gory."_ Peter limped to the next door, his shaking hands crushing the metal handle as he hurriedly opened it. Peter heard the large table crash into a wall a moment after the door shut. He was in another large office space. This one, however, was not on fire.

 _"_ _He's filled with dread, I'll lump off his head."_ Peter felt goose bumps spread over his skin, his body shivering in a quacking fear as he stumbled forward. The Goblin was hiding in the shadows, but he was here, in the same room, with Peter. It was hard to move, hard to walk, the teen leaned heavily on desks for support.

 _"_ _His Aunt will surely be in mourning."_ The teen gaged despite himself. His head swirling with Norman's words. No, not again, he couldn't put May through that terrible grief again. No one should have to feel that, and no one should know what it's like to lose a child.

Another large shadow passed over Spidey, and in the teen's hurried attempt to turn around his foot caught on a desk. Making the boy fall to the floor, he pressed his back to the wooden desk behind him. His brown eyes darting about the room in search for the Monster, but he couldn't see him, couldn't find him.

 _"_ _Oh dear Peter"_ Osborn's voice was still a hissed rumble, a false gentleness lacing his words. _"are you scared my boy?"_ The boy's chest was heaving, how was he supposed to get out of this? He didn't want this night to be his last memory. Peter always figured that he would die young. That he would fall at one of the hands of his enemies. That he would be killed while in the mask. But he hadn't imagined this. Had never feared he would die feeling this _trapped,_ this _alone._

 _"_ _Tell me Spiderman, how does it feel? How does it feel to know your demise is looming? That it's inevitable, inescapable?"_ A low chuckle rumbled out of the Goblin's chest, the sound drowning out the noise of the storm pounding on the windows.

The teen tucked himself further into a ball. He wasn't going to run. He was tired of this game of hide and seek. He'd wait. Wait for Norman to attack. For the Goblin to make his move. For the Monster to pounce.

 _"_ _Did you not hear my question, Peter?"_ The Monster seemed to enjoy using the boy's name, it was always said in a purr, it's sound slipping off of his slimy tongue. Maybe he liked using the name because it made things more personal, maybe he did it to remind Spidey that he knew everything about him, that he knew where he lived and who he loved. Or maybe he used it because he felt that it was his, that _Peter_ was his.

 _"_ _How does it feel to know you are going to die Peter Parker?"_ Peter closed his burning eyes. He had never felt like he did right now. Had never felt this void of hope, this lost, this sure of his own death. It left him feeling raw, his body exposed and vulnerable. His skin too tight on his bones, an inescapable fear invading every inch of his being.

Everything seemed to go silent for a moment. Spidey's eyes snapped open as he forced his body to roll to the side as his spider-sense screamed. _"ANSWER ME!"_ Norman roared in a pure rage. The Goblin's body crushed the desk Peter had been hiding behind. His eyes on fire as saliva dribbled out the side of his mouth and onto the floor.

Peter rolled backward as the Monster's fist came down, smashing the floor with it's impacted, making wood splinter upward. Spidey webbed the other in the face before kicking out with his uninjured leg. His foot connected with Norman's knee making a sick _'crack'_ as Peter put all his strength into the blow.

The Goblin screamed in a pain filled fury as he shot out a fireball. Spidey sprang to the side, feeling the heat of the blast singe his hair. The teen rolled behind another desk before snapping a desk leg in half and swinging it at Norman's face.

The wood split in half as it smacked into Osborn's jaw. But that only seemed to anger the Monster more. The Goblin kicked the teen backward, making Peter smash through multiple desks, and land limply on top of the ruins. Spidey groaned, tasting the coppery red of blood in his mouth. Peter's head spun as he was lifted up by the front of his suit, his head rolling to the side.

Norman's fingers snaked into the boy's brown hair, twisting the locks before the Monster yanked the teen's head up forcing Peter to look at his attacker's face. Osborn licked his lips, his eyes seeming to scan over Spidey's bloodied face once again. Savoring it, memorizing every wrecked detail of the boy.

 _"_ _Awe, yes."_ The Monster breathed. _"I don't need an answer_." His face was so close that Peter's nose was burning, his eyes watering from the heat or the stench he wasn't sure. _"The immense fear in those childlike eyes of yours is answer enough."_

Norman slammed Peter down then. Making the teen's head rattle and his body spark in a white hot pain. Then the teen was being thrown across the room, his body smacking into a dense wall and slumping to the floor like a rag doll.

Peter's lungs rattled. There was something wrong with them. They burned like acid, sharp pains bursting through his chest every time he tried to suck in air. But that was the thing. Peter _couldn't_ suck in air. Couldn't breathe. He was wheezing for breath. Heaving for oxygen. But for some reason, his lungs couldn't pull the air into his lungs.

The Monster was approaching. Peter could just make his looming form out, his eyes blurry, his vision swimming with tears. The teen pulled himself up onto his elbows, looking frantically for anything to help him.

Spidey's eyes caught on something red. Norman began running for him and Peter's spider-sense screamed. He webbed the fire extinguisher with a quick flick of the wrist and swung it right into Osborn's jaw. The Monster roared in rage, but then Peter was smacking him again, and then again, and again.

Norman was down on all fours now, but he wouldn't be for long. Peter quickly stood on shaky legs and hit the Monster over the head with the extinguisher with all his might. The vibration hurt up into the teen's arms but he ignored it, slamming the object down once again.

A clawed hand snaked out and grabbed Peter by his broken ankle. Making the teen cry out in pain as the bone was forced to shift. Then Norman was throwing him again, but this time, Peter was headed for the window.

The teen let himself crash through the glass. Shattered fragments glimmering in the rain, and shimmering with a flash of lightning. Peter twisted his body so he could web himself to the side. The teen began descending downwards before hitting the parked cars with the fire extinguisher.

Soon a dozen car alarms were going off. It was hard to hear over the rain and thunder. But it was all Spidey could think to do right now. _Draw attention, make some noise, signal for help._ Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when you were in trouble?

Peter was so dizzy he was having trouble telling what was up and what was down. His breaths still wheezed from his chest, and he wasn't sure he had ever felt this much agony before.

A roar of rage made the hairs on the back of Spidey's neck stand up, and then something was slamming into his body. Peter smacked into a parked car, his back slamming into the side door, but the teen still held tightly to the fire extinguisher.

Norman loomed over him, yellowed blood dripping down his neck and pooling into the large dip of his collarbone. _"Trying to get help, Peter?"_ Osborn asked, a soft chuckle making Peter shiver. _"Trying to signal for a savior?"_ The Goblin picked the teenager up by the throat again, bringing him up to face level. _"You naive child,"_ Norman smirked. _"there will be no one to save you from me."_

Peter scrunched his eyes up, feeling them begin to burn. That might be so, but he was still going to try. He couldn't, no _wouldn't_ give up that easily. Spidey swung the extinguisher into the Goblin's face before turning his body into a backflip and kicking Osborn in the neck. The Monster roared as crack of lightning scratches across the sky. The sound grating on Peter's ringing ears.

Peter lands roughly, his body starting to tingle from an overload of pain, or possibly because it was shutting down, Peter isn't sure. The Goblin's back and head light into flames, the smell of burning flesh filling the night air, and making Peter's nose burn.

Peter flips onto a hood of a car, before pointing the fire extinguisher at the Monster and shooting it off. Covering Norman in a white foam, and then webbing him to the street. Trying to ignore the yells of anger coming from the Goblin.

Spidey jumps up and starts slinging away again. Dropping the fire extinguisher in the process, and hearing it clatter to the floor. His movements are sloppy, and if it weren't for his spider-sense he would have crashed by now. His eyes are spotted with colorful dots, and his chest is heaving for breath, his lungs burning inside of him, _begging, pleading_ for air. But Peter can't give it to them.

The boy could make out the large A of the Avenger's Tower just two blocks away. But he wasn't sure he could even make that small distance. His ears were ringing, every harsh boom of thunder rattling in the boy's head. His spider-sense a non-stop whine in his skull. His fingers were shaky and he kept slipping down his web, the only thing keeping him attached his sticky micro-hairs.

Spidey was so tired, so hurt, so panicked. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. Wasn't sure that there _was_ anything to do anymore. If he didn't get help, then what was there to do? He couldn't win this on his own, and Norman wasn't going to give up until Peter was limp in his hands.

Peter just barely made out another roar from the Goblin. His mind was starting to wander, his thoughts slippery and scrambled in his brain. He couldn't go on like this. It was too much.

A truck was thrown at the teenager, and everything was a pain filled blur after that.

Peter was on the ground. It was cold and hard. His face pressed to the asphalt, a rock digging into his nose. The rain was pounding on his body, the lightning blinding him, the thunder deafening in his ears.

A car exploded next to the hero. The fire burning, singeing his hair, melting spandex to his skin. It smelt of gasoline and burnt flesh. Everything was too loud, turning to one noisy roar in the teen's ears.

He couldn't breathe. He was choking. Floundering like a land stricken fish. His mouth opening and closing over and over again, making his bloodied lips brush against the dirty street. His heart going too fast, his neck hurting with the pulse, his blood rushing through his ears, spilling out his wounds and mixing with the rain on the ground.

And then he was being flipped over. And Norman was there. The Monster was standing over him. It's fiery eyes steaming in the rain as it's tongue snakes out of its mouth. And then the Monster was hitting him.

He was hitting Peter over and over again. But there was nothing that the teenager could do to stop it. So he didn't, he didn't stop it. The Monster was screaming. Peter thought that if he could breathe, maybe he'd be screaming too.

Peter was dying. His body shutting down and no longer listening to him. His heart slowing down as it prepared to stop. His brain murky, floaty away with him. He was cold, but it was a distant feeling, almost like he wasn't truly experiencing the sensation.

Peter closed his eyes. Not wanting the last thing, he sees to be the Goblin, _the Monster._ He wills himself to think of other things. He tries to push away all thoughts and feelings of now. Tries to think of anything but the Monster above him, _beating him, killing him._

Peter can't help but think of his Aunt May. He wishes he had stayed with her tonight. Wishes that he had watched that movie with her yesterday instead of going out on patrol. He wishes that he had said I love you before leaving tonight. Wishes that he had said a lot of things. Wishes that he had told her about him being Spiderman.

He hopes that she knows how much he loves her. Hopes that she knows that he looks to her as his mother. He hopes that she can forgive him for leaving her. Hopes that she can move on. Hopes that she can find happiness again.

And then the Monster is no longer hitting him. And Peter can feel nothing more than the rain pounding on his beaten and battered body. He wonders if maybe he passed out if he's just imagining this. Because there is no reason for Norman to no longer be beating him.

Peter is trying to open his eyes, but he can't. The teen can feel his chest hitching up and down as he tries to breathe. He can distantly hear his own wheezing, but that isn't the sound the teen is focused on.

The Monster, _Norman,_ is screaming again. But other people are too. And the sky is screaming with them. The sky is crying. Peter can feel its tears soaking into his suit, making him shiver. Everything is starting to blur together in the teen's mind.

And then someone is touching him. And Peter thinks that maybe they are talking to him too. But he isn't sure, to be honest. Peter thinks that he must be imagining it, that no one is really there, but it feels real. And then someone's warm hand is pushing his hair out of his face, and then they are _kissing him?_

Peter's body stiffens. Because that isn't right. Peter tells himself that this couldn't possibly be real, but he's not sure that his mind could make the sensation of warm lips on his, and the scratchy stubble of the other person feel _this realistic_. And then warm breath his being pushed down his throat, and Peter's chest his forced to lift as his lungs try to fill with the other person's breath. And it hurts, _oh god it hurts,_ a sharp pain like no other shooting up from the right of the teen's chest. But he can feel his left lung taking in some of the oxygen. But really all Peter can do is focus on the intense _pain._

And then the boy is being moved, and his body is being pressed to something warm and soft. Peter feels a hand on his head keeping it upright. Feels other hands pressing things to his body, and feels someone putting something over his mouth.

But Peter isn't quite sure what happens after that…

* * *

 **Well, that's it for this chapter...Poor Peter...Why do I hurt him so..?**

 **I know that I was going to put the Avengers in here, but things kind of got off track and I no longer knew how to fit them into this chapter. But just know that it was a few of the Avengers who saved Peter in the end.**

 **Alright my beautiful peoples, thanks so much for reading, please tell me how you liked this chapter of The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and go have an awesome day!**

 _ **~Fernandidilly-yo out!**_


	3. And Washed the Spider Out

**I suck so bad guys. I know. Leaving you all like that for so long was just a jerk move, and I am sorry...forgive me?**

 **If it's any consolation this chapter is almost two thousand more words than the other two were...**

 **Warning; For Panic Attacks.**

* * *

There's a faint beeping sound. But it's hard to hear over what feels like cotton in Peter's ears, it sounds almost familiar, but the teen's mind is too foggy to place a guess on what it is. Peter's body is pressed to something soft, his fingers twitch over what he thinks is a scratchy blanket. The hum of machinery is light almost nonexistent in the background of the room.

At first, it's only those few things that register in Peter's mind. But then other realizations start to shape in the murkiness that is the boy's slippery thoughts.

His whole body his thrumming with pain, his chest feeling too heavy to lift, and his head pounding with a dull ache. But there is also that slight tingly feeling that leaves a person's body numb still lingering in Peter's limbs, it's the same feeling Peter gets when he has been drugged with something.

But what really catches Peter off guard is the feeling of something large and hard lodged in his throat. The object forcing air into his aching lungs and _choking him_.

Peter's body gives a jolt of a spasms as he comes to his senses. The teen makes a distressed noise from the back of his throat as he turns his head to the side, trying to grab at the thing lodged in his mouth with his too clumsy fingers.

The beeping in the background has grown more rapid the sound hurting Peter's ears. His head hurts, and he can't seem to get this _darn thing_ out of his mouth. He doesn't know why, but that fact makes him feel even more panicked.

And then warm hands are grabbing at Peter's shaking ones and pulling them away, the teen tries to pull back from the other person, but his whole body is weak and shaking. Cold fear slowly spills into Peter's chest and he tries to open his eyes but too bright, white, light, seem to blind him as he struggles to get his arms back.

He snaps his eyes back shut a moment later, his chest hitching before his ears finally make out frantic words being said from over the top of him-

"-wasn't supposed to wake up-"

"-hurt self-"

"-remove tube-"

And then someone was talking _to_ Peter. "Spidey," They said in a hushed tone, and the man also sounded familiar, the teen stopped his struggling at that, it wasn't like it was getting him anywhere, he was too tired to properly fight as it was.

"I'm going to take the tube out of your mouth now." The soft voice told the teenager, and then the plastic object in his sore throat was being moved, and Peter was gagging.

 _What was going on?!_

Peter spluttered trying to sit up, his chest and throat burning the man that had taken out the stupid-tube-thingy seemed to know that this was going to happen because a moment later a plastic cup of tepid water was being pushed to one of the teenager's shaky hands.

Peter pressed the straw to his mouth and sucked some of the water down, it helped his throat feel less raw, made the burning ease. Peter squinted his eyes open against the too-bright light. Someone murmured words too low for Peter to hear, but a moment later the lights dimmed a bit so he was guessing that whoever had said something had noticed his discomfort. He felt like he should thank that person, but he could do that later.

The teenager blinked a few times to get the dots out of his vision and when he did he felt a sense of dread wash over him. Two very familiar faces stared back at him. _Clint Barton,_ and _Bruce Banner._

Peter took the straw away, biting his lip as he brought a hand to his face. He knew what he would find there, but feeling his fingers brush against the naked skin of his cheek cemented it.

He was maskless.

And the Avengers have seen his face.

Peter felt his chest hitch. The movement hurt, that burning coming back into his chest and making his lungs feel heavy but he ignored the pain. The teenager let his hand fall from his cheek and onto his lap, his wrist was bandaged tightly. The events of last night _(was it even last night?)_ coming back to him in a wave, as the panic about his identity coming out crashed down on him.

They must have found him while Osborn was beating him nearly to death. They had rescued Peter and in the process seen him without his mask. Did that mean that SHEILD knew too? Oh god, they probably all knew every detail about Peter and his life by now. Where was Osborn? Peter hoped he was locked away. He never wanted to see that Monster again. What were the Avengers going to do with him now that they knew he was just some kid?

Peter couldn't breathe. It was like last night all over again. That horrible fear and panic racing through his veins making his body shudder and his eyes burn. What was he going to do? He had tried so hard to keep his identity a secret and in one night it had gotten out. Would SHEILD or the Avengers make him stop being Spiderman? Would they tell Aunt May? Oh god, what if they put him in jail?!

Sure, Spidey had helped the Avengers out a few times, but he was still nothing more than a vigilant, the police had a warrant out for his arrest, and there were many very incriminating accusations against Spiderman. And now they knew his name, they knew where he lived, and they knew that he was nothing more than a fifteen-year-old boy.

Peter hunched over on himself, pressing his uninjured hand to his quivering lips as he squeezed his burning eyes shut. He couldn't do this. No one was supposed to know. He felt sick and dizzy and he just wanted to be at home with his Aunt May. A wheezed-out whimper passed through Peter's lips and the teenager couldn't help the feelings of shame that coursed through him. He was with two of the Avengers and on the verge of tears, how delightful.

A warm hand pressed to Peter's back and started to rub at his shoulders. The teenager curled further up on himself, pressing his unhurt hand to his whole face, trying to shield himself from prying eyes. He felt skinned-raw, the feelings of helplessness from last night rising anew. Peter bit his lip trying to keep any sound in, as his chest hitched once again.

"You're alright," Bruce said in that same soft voice that Peter couldn't recall hearing before, still rubbing at Peter's back. "You're safe." He assured.

Peter's eyes burned. He didn't feel safe, he felt exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. His hands were shaking and his whole body began to tremble as he sucked in a ragged and hitched breath. He felt like his world was unraveling before him, all the secrets he had worked so hard to keep ripped away from him so abruptly it hurt.

Suddenly Peter couldn't breathe again, and it was just like how it had been last night. When the Monster had been beating him, when Osborn had had Peter pinned down beneath him his large bulbous body pressing onto Peter, crushing him and roaring that awful scream down at the teenager. Peter could smell the rancid breath, could feel the burning flames and remember the tearing claws.

Distantly Peter could make out the beeping increasing, could hear the alarms overhead blaring with his internal panic. His chest was too tight and Peter couldn't escape the overwhelming feelings of being _trapped trapped trapped!_

The hospital bed dipped to the side and Peter gave a startled wheezed out yelp as someone grabbed his wrist and began pulling his hand from his face. He had to untangle his trembling fingers from his hair so he wouldn't rip it out. The teenager turned startled red-rimmed eyes to the person that was pulling his hand away.

Clint.

Peter had always gotten along fairly well with the Archer. They joked back and forth and the teenager never felt pressure or a need to be more than he was with Hawkeye, out of all the Avengers Clint was probably the most _human_ , the most _real_. Or at least that was what Peter thought.

"Hey, you need to calm down," Clint said, his voice was calm and controlled, but Peter thought he might have heard an underlying worry there. Peter knew that his face portrayed every emotion he felt, it was why he wore a full-faced mask. Without it, his enemies would know what he was thinking, they would see when he was afraid, Aunt May had always said Peter was an open book. And Clint was taught to read people, so he must be getting one heck of a story right now.

Peter gave the Archer a disbelieving watery huff; he made it sound like this was easy as if Peter could control the wild panic that was running through his every cell. His chest clamped down tighter, and Peter had to swallow hard to get past the ever growing lump in his throat. His eyes were blurry and his cheeks damp.

He could still hear Norman's screams of rage, could feel the prickly flesh of his large fists. _What if Osborn came to Peter's house? Oh god, what if he went after Aunt May?! Was Aunt May okay?! Where was she right now?!_

"Peter," Clint called, snapping fingers in front of Peter's face. "hey, none of that." He said stern.

And oh god, Clint just said his name. They did know, that meant they knew everything. Where he lived, where he went to school. If SHEILD was involved that probably would mean that the organization knew more about Peter than Peter knew about himself. _Oh god, oh god, oh god-_

"Hey. _Stop."_ Clint gave Peter's wrist a hard squeeze, trying to bring the teenager back to the present. "I know _your_ name you know _my_ name, we're even now alright? Nothing to worry about." He said it so plainly. Peter could do nothing more than blink at the man, he still couldn't breathe it seemed, and his whole body was a trembling wheezing mess. But Clint's gaze didn't waver.

"I need you to focus on me." The blond said. "Just me alright, nothing else. You can breathe it's just a bit hard, you had a punctured lung. But it's mostly healed by now, so I want you to listen to me."

Peter gave the barest hint of nod; Clint still saw it, though. Peter felt dizzy and jittery, but Clint was using an even tone and calm voice and for some reason, Peter could hold onto that. His heart hammering in his chest and his breathing still wheezy, but his eyes on the man in front of him.

"Okay, breathe with me," Clint took Peter's hand that he was already holding and brought it to his own broad chest, "in for three seconds, hold for five, and let out for three." He instructed.

Peter nodded, blinking a few times and sending more hot tears down his cheeks. He began breathing with Clint; it hurt, his chest burning and too tight, but after a few minutes his breathing began to sync with the Archer's.

"Now wiggle your toes," Clint said, still holding Peter's hand to his chest and breathing in that same calming rhythm. "Now your fingers," Peter listened, doing as Clint asked until his nerves didn't feel like they were on fire inside of him anymore.

Even when his breathing wasn't as erratic and the tears had stopped Clint didn't make to move off the bed. The blond did begin to let Peter's hand drop from his chest, however, but when Peter accidentally made weak protesting sound in the back of his throat Clint instead threaded their fingers together and laid their intertwined hands down on the white sheets.

The room was silent for a few more minutes, save for the ever-present beeping of the machines in the background and Bruce shuffling behind Peter. The teenager could feel the warmth coming off of both the men, it was a comfort and a reminder. A _reminder_ that this was real, a _reminder_ that he wasn't alone, a _reminder_ that they knew who he was, a _reminder_ that this (whatever ' _this'_ was) was far from over.

"Are you alright, Peter?" Bruce asked, that same warm hand coming down to rub soothing circles at Peter's back again. Hearing them call him by name felt wrong, almost like a violation. Peter didn't know what to do with all of these emotions.

Peter hummed a noncommunicative sound in reply, not sure if he was _'alright'_ or not. Not sure about too much at the moment really, other than the fact that he was hungry, tired, and overwhelmed beyond all belief, Peter couldn't pick one emotion or feeling from the other.

Clint gave the teenager's fingers a firm squeeze, causing Peter's brown eyes to snap to his gray-blue ones. "You're going to be okay, Peter." He said, making the statement sound like a fact.

Peter wanted to believe the man, he tried to make himself believe it. Unable to think of anything else to say, "Okay." He whispered back, his voice choked and not sounding like his own.

* * *

Peter had never been to the Avengers Tower before.

Too afraid of being outed as nothing more than a high schooler or being taken into SHEILD he had avoided the place at all costs. But now here Peter was, sitting in the corner of a too large couch, wrapped in an extremely fuzzy blanket, surrounded by the Avengers. He wasn't sure whether to pee his pants or to fan boy. But seeing as he was too tired for either, he picked a middle and stayed quiet.

It was dark out, the city's lights shining in through the large floor to ceiling windows. Bruce had said that Peter was out for almost a full day. So it was somewhere around 3:00am, but the whole group of heroes were present even at this time of night. (Peter shouldn't be surprised) They had ordered Chinese food (Tony's idea) so now the large Livingroom was littered with different food cartons and overly stuffed Avengers sprawled out on the carpet, all put there in a self-induced food coma.

The hum of the Tower was almost enough to put Peter to sleep. He might have given into his tiredness if he didn't feel so on edge. But even if no one had said anything about his identity as of yet, he knew that that discussion was inevitable. All the Avengers addressed him by his name, it was no secret that they all knew.

The reveal left Peter feeling itchy in his own skin, leaving him to feel anxious and awkward as he ate dinner with the group of adults (and Clint). Peter shifted on the couch, his eyes drooping as he picked at one of his egg rolls. The food made him feel warm, even if it had been a bit hard to eat at first. His body was healing, leaving him drained and sleepy, Bruce said that Peter was heavily drugged and that only added to the tingly numbness that was coming over Peter's body and drawing him into a slumber.

But he didn't feel comfortable sleeping here. He knew that was dumb. He knew that the Avengers wouldn't let anything happen. But there was that underlying fear that they would dump him off at SHEILD if he slept. He also knew that that was unrealistic if they were planning on giving him to SHEILD they would have already, right? But nonetheless, Peter still felt too jittery to sleep in the Tower surrounded by the Avengers.

There was also the guilt building up in his gut. Aunt May would be worrying about him, she didn't know where Peter was, and he had been gone a full day know. She probably had gone to the police. What did she think had happened?

Peter felt his eyes sting as he thought about her. He could only imagine the things going through her head, it had only been a few months' sense they had lost Ben. What if she thought she had lost Peter too? She almost had, Peter reminded himself.

The teenager sniffed, burrowing further down into the blanket he was provided with, as images from last night invaded his mind, mixing with memories of what Aunt May had been like in those weeks following her husband's death, a dull glimmer of the warm light she used to be. She was just now getting her full shining light back if she lost Peter he was sure that wonderful light of her's would be fully extinguished. He couldn't let that happen.

He wanted his Aunt. He wanted to hug her and be able to touch her, reassure her that he was okay, and cling to her for the comfort he so desperately needed right now. He didn't want to be in this unfamiliar place with people he barely knew. Peter wanted to go home.

"When can I leave?" He asked, Peter's voice didn't sound like his own. His lungs and throat were still healing, making his voice raspy; the anxiety and dread in his gut making him sound small. The combination of the two made him sound like a weak child, and the comparison made Peter grimace.

The Avengers all exchanged looks, the sleepy atmosphere abruptly being replaced by a more hesitant one. Steve shifted, his blue eyes locking onto Peter, "That is something that we need to discuss." He informed.

Peter bit his lip, rubbing at his injured wrist. "I can't stay here," he tried to make his voice firm but failed miserably. "I have people worrying about me."

"You are still hurt Peter," Bruce said, his glasses askew as he looked up at Peter from the floor. "We can't just let you leave."

Peter felt his chest tighten in apprehension, "So, you're keeping me here?" He asked, if the Avengers wanted to keep someone in their place, then they would, there would be nothing Peter could do about it.

"It's not like that kid," Tony chirped, a mug of what Peter was guessing was coffee in the billionaire's hand splashed a bit to the floor, but Tony didn't seem to notice. "We know about your aunt, and we'll-"

Peter couldn't help but interrupt, his insides twisting with nausea. "You guys can't keep me from her, she-she must be worried sick about me, I have-"

"We aren't keeping you from anybody Peter, we didn't cause this, we didn't _do_ this," Natasha spoke up, Peter hadn't heard the redhead say anything in at least an hour, but her voice was sharp and easy to hear now. "We saved you and brought you back here because if we didn't you would have _died_ , this isn't us trapping you, this is us protecting you."

Peter felt his cheeks heat up, in embarrassment or anger he wasn't sure. He would have liked to deny that he needed their protection, but with the events of yesterday so prevalent in his mind, he knew it wasn't true. "I know that." He spat, "And thank you all for saving my-my sorry butt, I do appreciate it, I really-really do, but I'm a lot better now and I think it's time that I-I went home,"

"And once we let you go home, what will you do next time this happens?" Steve asked. The question caught Peter off guard, but he didn't get a chance to answer before Steve was talking again. "Next time you can't handle one of your rogues, what if no one is there to save you?" Steve's eyes were piercing even in the near dark. "You are a minor Peter, a teenager, not even of legal driving age yet, we can't allow you to risk your life like this."

Peter shot up from the couch, stumbling a bit on his casted foot. His eyes were burning and so was his chest, a fire of pain and anger shooting through him. "You c-can't take Spiderman away from me!" He shouted, denial and fear evident in his voice. "You have no right, I am Spiderman, you-you can't just- _you can't just-"_

"Spidey, cool it," Clint said from the floor, he was propped up on his elbows his feet under the coffee table. "We aren't taking Spiderman away from you." He said. Peter felt confusion cloud his mind at that statement.

Peter's tongue felt too big for his mouth as he tried to form an appropriate response to what the Archer just said. "Why?"

"Because," Tony said from his relaxed place on the couch, "you do a lot of good for this city, and you are a good hero. Plus, the only way to keep you from being Spiderman is to lock you up, and that's just too much of a hassle." Peter knew Tony was just trying for a joke, but the possibility still made the teenager's gut squirm.

Steve sighed, "Even so, we are not happy with a child going out and risking their life,"

"I am _not_ a child," Peter snapped.

Steve shot him a glare, and Peter plopped back down on the couch due to its weight, making his ribs jolt with pain. "In the eyes of the law, _you are_. And we aren't going to forget about that fact. We cannot allow you to continue like you are,"

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt a coldness sweep through his body. His arms brushed over his borrowed shirt, it was Iron Man themed, and Peter was pretty sure it belonged to Tony's too. (Peter swore Tony was nothing more than a big dork in disguise)

Steve sat up straighter, never breaking eye contact with the teenager sitting before him. Peter knew that he was small for his age, but sitting across from this man made him feel incredibly tiny. "You will come to the Tower for training every other day, and you will wear a comm while out on your patrols." Peter shifted but didn't say anything as Steve spoke. "You will abide by our rules, and you will follow direction. Once weekly medical checks are mandatory, and when facing the bigger baddies, you _will_ call for back up."

Peter thought about it, his insides burning with a defiance he knew he should squash down. He didn't. "And if I don't?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Then we turn to SHEILD, and see if they are as giving to you as we are," Steve answered, matching Peter's tone.

Peter bit his lip, "Fine. I'll do it." He agreed, this whole discussion was making him feel tired and shifty. The room was filled with an awkwardness so dense someone might choke on it. Peter thought maybe he was.

"Good. But there is one more thing you need to do."

* * *

Peter Parker did not belong on the inside of a limo.

Maybe perched on the top, or cleaning the large slim vehicle for some quick cash, maybe even driving fancy-pants people around New York for a job; but Peter himself definitely did not belong on the inside, sitting in the back being driven around like he was anything special. Or at least that's what Peter thought.

The inside of the limo was nice. Like _really nice_. _Nauseatingly nice_. The seats were a black leather and it smelt of cinnamon in here, there were snacks and a mini bar and everything. The driver's name was Happy, Peter distinctly remembered, because that was such an odd name for a limo driver. Though, Peter really didn't have any frame of reference, so maybe not.

Tony sat across from the teenager, sipping at a drink and gazing out the black tinted windows to the morning bustle of busy people headed off to work. Peter sat jittery in a corner, his fingers twisting nervously in his lap. He didn't want to do this, but it wasn't his choice, so there was no fighting it really.

Steve was sitting two seats down from Peter, he looked like he also felt out of place, but he was better at hiding it than Peter. Though, maybe Peter just really sucked at hiding his emotions because his _nerves were shot to hell!_

It was early in the day; maybe 7:00am or so. Peter still felt incredibly tired, but after Steve had stated his last requirement, Peter had barely been able to sleep at all. Bruce insisted that he needed to get as much rest as possible, and Peter knew that he was right, his body was sore and exhausted, but the thought of what he was being forced to do made the teen want to curl up in a ball and hide for a while. Maybe forever.

He was still in his borrowed clothes, the Iron Man shirt and a pair of too-long sweat pants that had been rolled up multiple times. One hand and one foot still casted in white, a bandage over the bridge of his nose to keep it in place, and his hair a big puffy mess of grime. He didn't know what had happened to his suit, but he didn't really want that one back anyway. Not after Norman had _touched_ it.

So Peter looked about as good as he felt. Which wasn't good. He felt sick with worry and apprehension, his gut wiggling inside of him and his heart trying to claw its way out of Peter's mouth. His hands were shaking ever so slightly, and for some stupid reason, Peter really wished that Clint was here instead of the two men he was with. Which was childish, but it was still what Peter wanted.

"It'll be fine Peter," Steve reassured the teenager for the umpteenth time. He kept shooting Peter sympathetic looks and small smiles, which Peter wasn't really sure what to do with, seeing as Steve was the one making him do this in the first place.

Peter could do nothing more than nod. His eyes glancing out the windows to find that the streets they were driving down were _very, very_ , familiar. A coldness started to slowly fill Peter's limbs and seep into his core. They were almost to his house, almost to _Aunt May_.

The boy bit his lip, he could feel where it had been split open the night before. It was still healing, his body favoring the bigger and more life-threatening injuries before it fixed little things like a split lip or a broken nose. Peter began bouncing his leg, feeling that hyper nervous energy start to fill him as they neared his neighborhood.

Oh god, he didn't want to do this. Not now. Not with Iron Man and Captain America accompanying him. Not when he was hurt and his Aunt must be filled with worry. There was a reason he kept all of this a secret. Already too many people knew, he didn't want to add one more, didn't want anyone else to have to shoulder his burden. Least of all his Aunt May.

"Don't think I've ever heard you be quiet for this long Spidey," Tony broke the silence a moment later, his brown eyes on Peter.

Peter resisted the urge to gnaw on his fingernails. He turned to Tony, giving the man a huff, "Yeah well…it's been a long day." He answered, not knowing what else to say.

Tony's eyes softened ever so slightly, but Peter still caught it. "She'll understand kid." He said, talking as if he knew May Parker. _But he didn't._ He didn't know that May had heart problems, he didn't know that she was just picking the pieces of herself up after she had shattered with the loss of her husband. He didn't know that she had to take on a second job, or that she was losing sleep because of it. He didn't know the burdens and large loads May Parker already had to carry.

But Peter knew, and Peter didn't want to add to her worry. He didn't want her to lose more sleep over him or for her health to get worse because of his secrets. That wasn't fair to her, none of this was fair.

Peter looked away from Tony, nodding again because there was nothing else to do.

Too quickly did they pull up in front of Peter's childhood home. The white peeling paint on the trim showing the wood underneath, the over flowing rainbow of flowers coming out the tops of their vases and making the house look colorful. The green grass needing a trim, and the tree that leads up to Peter's bedroom window still holding a lopsided bird house that he had made in the fourth grade.

Peter's chest tightened, and he had to look away. He couldn't do this, couldn't disrupted May's life like this. It would be selfish. Even if a part of Peter had always wanted to tell her; had always wanted to share with her how his day had _really been_ ; to be able to stop lying to her.

It didn't matter what Peter wanted, though, because all of those things were selfish reasons to tell her for. That's why he had kept his mouth shut, that's why he has to lie to May. Because Peter was protecting her. Protecting May from all of the evil he had brought into their lives.

Now, though, it wasn't a choice. It wasn't about want or need, it wasn't about being selfish or selfless, because this was no longer Peter's choice, this was not his decision to make any more. And Peter, in all honesty, wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified at that fact.

"Up and at'em," Tony clapped his hands, snapping Peter out of his down word spiral. The billionaire opened his door a second later, before waving a hand for Peter to follow him.

The teenager hesitated for a moment, looking over to find Steve staring at him with those intense blue eyes. "You can do this." He said, his voice soft, but firm.

Peter sucked in a deep breath and forced his body to crawled out of the car. The air was cold and bit at his naked arms, but it was fine it gave Peter something to focus on, something to keep him in reality. Peter blinked a few times at his house, feeling a tight ball form in the center of his chest, it's weight threatening to suffocate him.

Before Peter could lose his nerve, he walked forward, making his wobbly legs move as he wrapped his arms around himself and walked through the dew-covered grass and up the old creaky stairs that he and Ben had been meaning to fix before he had died. The inside of the house was quiet, and the teenager couldn't make out any movement from the other side of the walls; Peter's heart ached at the reason why.

He didn't have his key he realized. (He didn't take it on patrols, he just crawled through his window, so there was no need for it) Peter lifted a shaking hand to the door, knocking lightly with his uninjured arm, the noise seemed to echo in his ears as he waited for a response.

He could feel the other two men behind him. Tony on his right and Steve on his left, the two almost seeming to be guarding his small frame, from the outside world, Peter wasn't sure how he felt about that, but their presents was helping to keep him grounded to the here, to the now.

A moment later there was a shuffle from the inside of the house, and the door creaked open. Peter got the soft whiff of lavender perfume a moment before he saw her. Aunt May looked a mess. Her hair falling out of a loose braid and her eyes red-rimmed.

Peter felt an immense guilt settle into his being at the sight of her. _He_ had done that. _He_ had caused this. Aunt May should never look like that. She should be singing in the kitchen as she baked, flour in her hair and a smile on her face. She should always be happy, always be singing. Not portraying this sorrow, never feeling pain.

" _Peter?"_ She croaked disbelieving, as her eyes laid on the boy in front of her. Before Peter could register what was happening he was being pulled into a hug, enveloped in the sweet lavender of Aunt May's perfume, his face pressed to the soft fabric of her favorite sweater.

It only took Peter's foggy brain a moment to return the embrace. Wrapping his trembling arms around May, feeling tears prickle at the edges of his eyes as he did so. He had missed her _so much_. Last night when he _thought he would never see her again- when he thought about her being alone- when he thought about unwillingly abandoning her-_

Peter gave a wet sob into May's shoulder, clutching at her as she clutched at him. His fingers twisted into her knitted sweater, his hair mixing with her's, their erratic breathing misting the cold morning air. Peter didn't know what he would do without May. He loved her so much, she was his everything. He hoped that she knew that.

May hesitantly pulled away a moment later, her eyes watery and her forehead wrinkled in worry. "Peter, what happened to you?" She asked in a near whisper, her voice wet with emotion. Her hands going up to hold Peter's face, her right thumb stroking over the bandage on Peter's nose.

Peter forced himself to pull away, taking a step back, swiping at his eyes before he glanced at the two men behind him. May's eyes kept traveling to them, her gaze questioning and confused.

Peter's heart was thumping hard in his chest, his breath hard to come by. He felt dizzy and sick with worry, and he had to push past the lump in his throat in order to speak. "Aunt May, there's something I need to tell you."

* * *

 **That is it for this one boys and girls!**

 **Tell me what you thought, I'm going to bed now, Fernandidilly-yo out!**


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